Magic
by lena1987
Summary: A change comes during the heat of summer.


_Shadows  
Now curtain the moon  
Still faith swears  
It will shine again soon  
Shine with love  
You've been hiding from me  
With that love  
You've been hiding from me…  
Ask it and so it shall be._

k.d. lang

* * *

 **Magic**

Sunlight warmed the stones of Hogwarts as it spread its way through the halls, dancing across the floors. Flashes of bright gold flickered through stained glass windows, throwing splashes of colour. No students were there to witness it, for this was the magic of summer: slow, steady, enthralling.

Severus paused at a window, and cast his black gaze over the grounds. Rain had been infrequent – a miracle. The grass was kissed by golden light, and dry underfoot. It was unfamiliar. Welcome. It would be reborn soon enough, lush and verdant.

He glanced down at his watch. Something within him twisted. Impossibly, nerves raced and fluttered. When the knock came, he drew breath.

"Enter."

Delicate fingers curled around the door first as she pushed it open. Impossible hair followed, secured by what seemed to be a pair of miniature stirring rods. With a twitch of his lips, he waved her in. She wore summer robes, the colour of summer-soaked fluxweed leaves.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Professor Granger said. One hand was busy, and he knew without looking that she would be running the thin strand of her silver necklace through her fingers. A nervous habit, he thought, and forbid his restless left leg from moving any further.

"Morning," he returned gruffly.

She pressed her lips together. A more talkative man would invite her to sit, but as it was, he merely watched until she gave a little huff and sank down into the chair before the desk. He leant against the wall. Hermione closed her eyes, bit her lip, then nodded to herself.

"I do have a purpose for being here," she began, crossing her arms and looking up at him. "I assume you have the time, or you wouldn't have let me in."

He shrugged. "I do."

"Good," she declared. "I'd like your opinion on something."

"Mine?"

"We've worked together for eight years now…"

Warm sunlight rippled over her robes. Severus nodded, an odd thought entering his mind that perhaps he should have made an effort to clean up his desk: parchment was stacked anywhere and everywhere, and his glasses, perched atop one precarious pile, had made an uncomfortable line over his nose. He rubbed at it, perplexed at himself.

"Go on."

"Well," she said simply, "I'm having quite the problem. I'm afraid that I can't resolve it myself, though I _have_ tried."

"Right."

"Yes, so, you see, here I am." She spread her hands; they gave a tiny tremble.

"Here you are," he echoed slowly, his eyes wandering over her flushed cheeks and bright, brown eyes. There was a curl— _there_ , just at the curve of her neck—and he wondered whether it would feel as wild and untameable as it looked, or if it would be soft, yielding, twining over his hands…

"Is it… research related?" he offered, uncertain in the face of her hesitation.

She shook her head, smiling faintly.

"Work conditions?"

"No."

"Your contract? Salary?"

"No, I'm afraid it isn't…"

"Then what?" he pressed, shifting his weight onto the other foot. He felt the warmth of the sun on his back.

Hermione slipped out of the chair in a quick movement, taking one step towards him. "Like I said, it's very simple. I've just… That is to say, I think… It's simple, really…"

"I have never seen you this robbed of speech," Severus said, suddenly aware that his mouth was dry.

Hermione laughed, looking away from him for a moment. The line from her jaw to her neck was a blush of rose-pink, and he thought of reaching out, trailing a finger—

She turned back, a small frown upon her brow. "I've come to tell you that—and please believe me when I say that it won't change anything, because it is _not_ new, and you obviously haven't noticed, so it won't, ah—that this is the fifth summer when I've wondered if we might… whether we should just…"

His heart thrummed. It took flight, and he flew with it, unconsciously placing a hand on his chest as he waited. "We should just… _what_?"

She licked her lips. "Come outside with me. Let's take a walk, Headmaster. Would you like to?"

She held out her hand.

His hand left his chest. He looked down at it, scowling in intense concentration, wondering if he should…

Because she could just be—

And then, if she were, he would be humiliated, would be a fool, the worst fool—

Her palm was warm; soft.


End file.
